514 TWENTY- THIRD ANNUAL YEAR BOOK— PART VII 



THE SHIPPER 



The shipper sat in an old caboose, 

 Smoking his pipe of clay; 

 The glass was gone from the window sash, 

 And the cushions were taken away. 

 An old oil lamp on the wall nearby 

 Refused to burn, for the thing was dry. 



This farmer placed his hand to his head 



As he thought of a by-gone day, 



When shippers were treated as gentlemen 



By trainmen along the way. 



And a teardrop came to the old man's eye — 



Then he went for a drink, and the tank was dry. 



The coal was gone, the fire was low, 



And the chills began to creep 



Up the twisted spine of the cattleman, 



And of course he could not sleep. 



So he sat on a switch and wrote this rhyme, 



While the trainmen waited for overtime. 



I did so want this little talk tonight to be one of my best, for many 

 reasons that are going to be developed later. I worked and sweated 

 over there at the Grant Club today, pen and ink to help me, and I am 

 going to ask your kindness, your patience, your generosity tonight to 

 help me a little bit. There are going to be portions that, for fear of mis- 

 quotation, I shall read to you. I had intended to read all of it to you, 

 the first time I think that I have ever appeared before this organiza- 

 tion and ever requested indulgence of that character. I am not going to 

 do that but there are certain parts which I must read for reasons which 

 will appear. 



My remarks may seem somewhat rambling and not connected. If I 

 had had a day or two more on this speech of mine tonight, I could have 

 made it in good order. There are going to be three general divisions. 

 First, I want to speak very briefly about eight different things of rather 

 large importance that have happened since I was with you last, two years 

 ago. Second, I want to speak about some things with which I am more 

 intimately connected. I shall talk in regard to those more at length. 

 And, third, am going to give you a conclusion that will be a conclusion 

 in more senses than one, a conclusion unique in and of itself. 



In the past two years, 1921 and 1922, you have witnessed a very des- 

 perate struggle against tremendous odds on the part of American agri- 

 culture. You probably suffered more than during any other time in your 

 lives, not because prices were lower but because of a disproportion in the 

 prices, the price which you got for your products compared to the prices 

 which you had to pay for the things you purchased. It is when things get 

 out of a proper relationship that trouble comes. While you have suffered 

 and while at times many of you have faced possible financial ruin, if not 



